Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles)

by Dale B. Mattheis

  He could afford to have his little joke. While Rengeld had been assessing their position, Jeff had received a message from Balko that Balthazar’s pack was coming at speed. They expected to arrive late in the afternoon.

  Rengeld’s face started to purple up. However, he had seen Jeff’s humor in action several times and reined his temper in. While offbeat and rough, it was never destructive. He strongly suspected there was substance behind the humor.

  “Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain yourself?”

  Jeff figured he had pushed Rengeld about as far as was prudent, and proceeded to explain the wolf gambit.

  “Wolf packs tend to be small, and Balthazar’s is no exception. At last count he was leading eighteen adult wolves. On the surface that seems an inadequate force to accomplish anything, much less attack an army. Yet the terror these creatures inspire in humans is unimaginable. That is how they must be employed—to terrify. While it is obvious that eighteen wolves cannot attack the entire Astholf column, panic spreads like wildfire and will accomplish that task for us.”

  As the picture developed, Rengeld forgot that he had ever been upset with Jeff. “Now we attack. Now the way is open.”

  “I believe that it is, yet there is more. Allow me to convey what I have learned from my studies of warfare in other lands. Ours is not a unique dilemma, and the odds might be further improved.”

  Pulling together bits and pieces of a number of wars, large and small, Jeff described tactics used in guerilla warfare.

  “This is unheard of!” Rengeld sputtered when Jeff concluded.

  “That depends on the country and circumstances. The tactics I have mentioned are well proven and effective.”

  “Yes, I can perceive that they would be, but…” Rengeld choked off further objection. His superb military instinct was excited and clamoring for attention. In the end he was sold on the whole package.

  Preparation began that afternoon. Every piece of harness that had metal attached was padded with rags. That accomplished, each trooper was required to shake the harness. If there was any metallic sound, more padding was applied. All uniform brightwork was covered with mud or carbon black. Horses with light coats or white spots were also attended to. Troopers were warned that if anyone pulled a sword before the word was given or wore spurs, a military career would end. Individuals and groups were assigned tasks, then ordered to repeat them out loud until they were memorized.

  When preparations were complete, Rengeld mustered the troop for the final step. Jeff held out a pot for all to see.

  “Watch closely. If this is done properly, it may well save your life.”

  Scooping out a dollop of charcoal paste, he applied it to his face. Those old war movies he had watched as a kid were finally paying off. Jeff wiped his hands on the ground.

  “All right, boys, let’s mix up more of this stuff and get it done.”

  One of the troopers grinned at his buddy and reached for the pot. Within a short period, Rengeld had to curb excessive enthusiasm. Looking like a regiment of rogue Green Berets, the troop was ready to roll by dusk. Jeff had previously informed Rengeld that he would have to go with the wolves.

  “To a wolf this night’s work is a joyful escapade. You must also know that this pack consists entirely of impertinent wolves—what my country of origin would term smart-asses. They may well enjoy themselves too much and be loath to depart battle. I must assist their leader in effecting such departure.”

  The time came to leave and Rengeld gave the order to move out. The troop had sobered considerably. Without wasted motion or comment, they ghosted into the night without a sound.

  Jeff and Cynic headed southeast where they joined with Balthazar’s pack. Jeff had no more than dismounted when Heideth hurried over. Jeff kneeled down to greet her, the deep satisfaction he sensed in her mind reassuring him he had done the right thing in letting her go. She and Balthazar belong together, he thought, just like Zimma, Magda and me. That was an undocumented wish, and he knew it. Zimma had given permission, but did she really mean it?

  Balko was happy to see Jeff as well, although he seemed somewhat anxious. When Jeff asked why, Balko replied, “This one is concerned there are still enemy necks to bite.”

  “More than you can possibly imagine, my impatient young friend.”

  He mounted up and turned Cynic south, the wolves fanning out ahead. Jeff warned them to be careful of lances, throwing spears and swords, but all he got for his efforts were a few off-color remarks.

  “Do not be concerned, wolf-brother.” Balthazar commented. “This pack has traveled widely and confronted two-leg weapons on a number of occasions.”

  The Astholf encampment was far enough south that Jeff had sufficient time to think about what was coming. Memories of the last winter surfaced and he knew that it could happen, that he could die. But this feels different, he thought. Why am I not afraid?

  Jeff relaxed to the soothing creak of saddle leather and fell into synchrony with Cynic’s rocking chair canter. Some time later, he murmured, “I guess that’s what it is. Just been scared shitless too many times. Either you live or you die.”

  With the wolves scouting ahead, finding the army was simple. They crouched to the top of a knoll some two hundred yards shy of their target and stretched out to wait. Below their position a vast sea of campfires glowed red. In the middle distance off to the west, the Khorgan encampment was visible as a large reddish orb that spread toward the horizon. Anticipation prompted younger wolves to belly forward, only to be chastised by a watchful Balthazar and Heideth.

  A faint glow on the horizon gradually brightened. A moon was about to rise. Still no sign of wagons burning, not a sound to indicate battle.

  “C’mon, Rengeld, let’s get it on. Times wasting!”

  Jeff was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong when he heard a faint but distinct commotion. Jumping to his feet, he stared off to the west. Within minutes a bright flare of light rose well above the campfires, quickly followed by more in an expanding ripple.

  “Brothers and sisters, let us attack!”

  To Jeff’s mind and perception, the wolves simply disappeared. Balko was so impatient he fairly danced down the hill waiting for Jeff and Cynic.

  Murmuring, “God help those men and women down there,” Jeff mounted up. Cynic thought Balko was cheating by getting a head start and tore down the hill in pursuit.

  They were picking up speed when a shriek cut through the night. Within seconds, wild cries of fear and screams of agony sounded from multiple locations. Then horses added their terror to the din amid shouted questions, commands and bugle calls. When they hit the flats Jeff leaned forward and Cynic really poured on the coal, the cool night air ripping by.

  When he was close enough to see panicked soldiers milling around in the moonlight, Jeff turned Cynic toward the rear of the camp and the supply train. Ten yards ahead, Balko was visible only as a dark blur. Tents passed in rapid succession, agitated figures crawling from many of them but visible for only a second as they flashed by.

  One second Cynic was running free, the next he was plowing through a group of conscripts. Bodies sailed into the air on either side, and Jeff reflexively ducked a leg that was gone before he knew what it was.

  Balko savaged anyone within reach as he forced a zigzag path through the men and women. Those who were able crawled or scuttled away in terror-stricken desperation. They had bargained on laying siege to Rugen and picking up some loot, but not this.

  Once through the conscripts, Jeff guided Cynic toward the line of wains. Leaping from the saddle into the bed of a wain, he kicked a teamster over the sideboards. Uncorking a bottle of turpentine, he splashed some around and dumped live coals on top. The coals weren’t hot enough.

  “Shit!”

  He kneeled down to blow with all his might. There was so much noise that he could hardly think, and expected to be run through or brained any second. Something crashed into the wagon.

  Jeff jerked h
is head up to see Cynic complete his kick and dived to the side as a body flipped into the bed. The turpentine caught with a rush and Jeff had to jump for it. Cynic had the idea and took off for the nearest wain with Jeff half in and half out of the saddle. Balko was standing in the wain’s bed when they got there.

  As several more wains caught fire, torrents of air rushed in to form a tornado of flame that shot high into the night sky. Jeff urged Cynic into the remuda of pack animals and slashed picket lines as fast as they appeared. Time was running out.

  “Wolf-brother! Drive the horses out onto the prairie!”

  Balko needed no encouragement and set himself at the horses’ heels as fast as they were freed. Jeff was well down the line when the guards got organized and came on with a rush.

  “We’re outta here! Let us run swiftly to join our brothers and sisters!”

  They charged back up the line and plunged into the thick of things near the head of the column. Jeff was appalled at the carnage roiling about him. Moonlight and the burning wagons gave enemy troopers a good look at what was killing them. So rapid were their attacks that the pack’s eighteen wolves seemed like fifty to men who had never even seen one before.

  Panic-stricken soldiers raced around in wild disorder, others screamed briefly as they were pulled down. Trying to escape, many ran blindly out of camp while Jeff saw others burrowing into bedding and tents. He was horrified by the scale of destruction and death that seethed around him, and by the realization that it was his doing. At that moment he understood the difference between planning a battle and experiencing it.

  A bugle repeatedly brayed its call to action, shaking Jeff out of his state of shock. “We must leave, wolf-brothers and sisters. Do not tarry!”

  Wolves leaped away into the night in twos and threes. Jeff slanted Cynic off to the west and stopped a hundred yards out positioned between the two armies. As feared, a troop of cavalry emerged from the encampment heading west at the canter. All Jeff wanted to do was get away and forget what he had seen, but his core mission was to block any attempt by the Salchek to support the Khorgan Army. He drew the Colt.

  The cavalry troop didn’t see him until the last minute. Steadying the pistol on his left arm, Jeff blotted out his feelings and emptied the weapon into the troop in evenly measured shots.

  Six tongues of yellow-orange fire speared the night one after the other, accompanied by the rolling thunder of muzzle blasts. Three of the leading horses went down in a shrill, screaming pile and those behind cartwheeled on top. Others avoided the pileup and came on at the gallop but Jeff was long gone. Cynic had never experienced gunfire and was bucking across the prairie like a rodeo horse.

  Unable to locate Jeff, Balko raced back with the pack racing to catch up. The jumble of thrashing horseflesh and men proved irresistible to some of the wolves, while others saw a more challenging opportunity.

  Black forms sailed out of the night to strip horses of riders only to bounce from the ground and do it again. The terrified shrilling of the horses was more soul-wrenching then that of the humans. Jeff directed a frantic call at the wolves when he had Cynic under control.

  “Return to the forest!”

  Before leaving, Jeff had the presence of mind to realize he had a final task to complete. Dismounting he scooped up several Salchek swords. He remounted in a daze and urged Cynic after the wolves. Not far off, a massive bonfire illuminated the western horizon.

  There was no evidence of Rengeld’s troop when they arrived at the forest. That was not unexpected. They were farther afield by some miles. Jeff removed the hackamore and sent Cynic off to cool down and graze.

  The wolves sat around exchanging war stories, and after a time wondered to Jeff when they might be invited to such a fun thing again. While Jeff felt immense relief that quick feet and total surprise had combined to avoid serious wounds, vivid images of the battle refused to fade.

  Balthazar heard Rengeld’s troop coming and abruptly stood up. They made their farewells as Balthazar loped off, Heideth at his side.

  “We have wrought well this night, wolf-brother. We will hunt nearby. Call when we may be of service.”

  Adding fuel to one of the campfires to heat water, Jeff thought, Yes, we have wrought havoc and death.

  When Rengeld’s force filed into camp, Jeff counted troopers. The tally stopped at 185. Fifteen horses carried wounded soldiers. The water was the right temperature and he called for volunteers to help clean and bind wounds. Although many of the wounds were superficial, four of the men were not likely to survive the return trip.

  Snugging a knot in the last bandage, Jeff directed anxious comrades to assist the wounded onto horseback. Just a few days to rest, he thought. That’s all most of them need. At the same time he knew it was impossible. Their camp was only an hour’s ride from either of the armies. Two hundred horses left a trail that even an idiot could follow.

  Rengeld spoke with the wounded men. Always reserved, even stern, on this occasion Jeff observed compassion. Yet there were no options. Rengeld ordered the troop to move out. Taget and Harko were left behind to assess damage and report back when it was clear what the armies would do. Come dawn, they stopped well back in the forest to rest the wounded.

  The rear guard joined up and reported no sign of pursuit. To make sure this was the case, Jeff asked Balko to make a sweep back to the campsite. It was a mission that perfectly fit Balko’s idea of how to spend a morning. Later, he was disappointed to report that he had encountered no sign of the enemy.

  When Jeff related this news to Rengeld, he was pleased but not surprised. “I believe the Salchek will be forced to treat our assault as a prelude to an attack in corps strength. To do otherwise would be both foolish and incompetent. They are neither.”

  “Thus they cannot afford to detach cavalry in pursuit of us.”

  “Exactly. Furthermore, we left the supply train in flames and the army in chaos. Surprise was complete, Jeffrey. They did not suspect our presence until we were among them. Our plan worked to perfection! I have learned much this night, and thank you. Lacking the ‘camouflage’ you so artfully devised, I am certain our casualties would have been much higher.”

  Jeff handed the Salchek swords to Rengeld. “These lessons were hard-learned in deadly battles on my world. Battles where the enemy was rarely seen. I am pleased they have served well this night on another. You must present these swords to Imogo in full panoply and view of Rugen’s people. They must know that the Salchek are not invincible. We must also allow the city ample warning before entering so that a proper reception may be assembled. We will then enter in camouflage. What think you?”

  “Jeffrey, my friend,” Rengeld said with an admiring shake of his head, “I had not suspected such a complicated, even devious turn to your mind. Yes. A marvelous suggestion.”

  One day out of Rugen their presence was noted by a patrol. Rengeld took the opportunity to send word ahead to Imogo. A few hours before arriving they applied camouflage and tidied well-used uniforms. Jeff unfolded a simple triangle of black cloth that he had been working on in secret. Securing the pennon to a standard, he solemnly presented it to Rengeld.

  “Rengeld’s Raiders have returned.”

  Mounting, they proceeded in three precisely ordered columns. Jeff and Balko were in the vanguard with Rengeld. Immediately behind, a trooper selected for bravery in the raid proudly displayed the new unit pennon. Still a mile from the gate, the crowd had spilled onto the road leaving the narrowest of lanes. Nearer city walls, the road was packed twenty deep. Rengeld held the captured swords up and they went wild.

  I really underestimated this, Jeff thought. A lot of these folks are damn near hysterical. This has to be related in some way to the last occupation. Maybe they really did believe the Salchek couldn’t be beaten.

  A roar of approval followed their progress toward the south gate. Somewhere, drums and cymbals pounded and clashed with stirring abandon. By the time they passed under the portcullis, speech was impossible.r />
  Chapter Twenty

  Revelation

  An honor guard escorted the returning troop to the palace. Streets were crowded with people, and overhead balconies filled to the point of collapse. Some balconies were low enough that a few troopers lost their hats. Other troopers leaned down to grasp hands or accept a kiss. Imogo was standing on the palace steps accompanied by Ethbar when the troop arrived at the main plaza. Jeff stood up in the stirrups and stared.

  “By the gods! It’s Belstan!

  While Rengeld solemnly presented the captured swords to Imogo, Jeff tried to spot Zimma in the crowd. When he could not find her, he nearly deserted the column. Many explanations raced through his mind, but there was no shaking the worst one. Jeff was forced to pay attention when Imogo gestured for him to approach. He was so distracted that he never did remember their conversation.

  The ceremony was no more than concluded when citizens mobbed the troop. Jeff fought his way through the press toward Belstan. When he was close enough to read Belstan’s expression, Jeff was taken with panic. Please, not Zimma! The thought had no more than entered his mind when someone cannoned into him, and his face was smothered with kisses.

  “Oh Jeffrey!” was all she could get out between the kisses.

  Jeff held Zimma at arm’s length just to admire her. It looked like she had been crying.

  “What has happened, love?”

  “It is Ostfel. He and father were attacked far to the east, and an arrow struck Ostfel. Belstan and I had returned from the West only days before they entered the city. Carl cannot say whether Ostfel will live or not. He is so ill!”

  Retrieving Cynic, Jeff swung Zimma up behind. Cynic felt the urgency and went as fast as he dared. Carl was slumped in a chair when they entered the infirmary. He was unshaven, appeared exhausted, and new worry lines creased his forehead. He jumped up at the sight of Jeff.

  “Thank God. At least you’re in one piece.”